


Words and Deeds

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bifur ships it, Dwarves In Exile, Friendship, Humor, Khazâd November, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: Thorin doesn't dare to speak and even if Bifur could do so for him, it wouldn't be his business to. But some decisions are less difficult to make than finding the right words.





	Words and Deeds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 26 of [Khazâd November](https://a-grump-of-dwarves.tumblr.com/post/166304116735/khaz%C3%A2d-november-2017), the additional prompt was "jewel".  
> 

“I want you to take this,” his Amad said, setting the necklace with the bright blue sapphire into his hand. “It has always brought me luck so far and I hope it will do the same for you.”

“Does that mean I get to join the war?” Bifur asked eagerly.

“No, not until you are of age. And even then, I advise you to think about it carefully instead of just rushing into it full of enthusiasm like everyone else. War is full of more dangers and horrors than you can imagine.”

“Shouldn’t you take the necklace then?” Bifur asked, running his fingers over the golden chain. “You are the one going to war.”

“No, I want you to have it, just in case something happens here in the settlement while I am gone. And I’m sure it will bring you the good luck of having me home again soon.”

 

It didn’t. Bifur’s mother fell in the first smaller battle of the war. As soon as Bifur came of age the following year, he signed up for the war, not full of excitement as he had once been but bent on revenge.

Bifur didn’t get revenge. He got an axe in the head. He wouldn’t have been able to say if that was good luck in that he lived or bad luck, changing his life forever. Still, he always wore the necklace with the dark blue sapphire, both for better luck and to remember his mother by. Even though it hadn’t been in the family for long, it had already become an heirloom.

 

Bifur saw Thorin looking. He had thought that Thorin only had eyes for his hobbit whenever they weren’t running and fighting. Not that Thorin wasn’t watching Bilbo then either to make sure he wasn’t harmed, but when they were sitting quietly, Thorin watched in an entirely different way, one that made Bifur’s heart go warm. But whenever Bifur took off his cloak and the necklace became visible, Thorin’s eyes were on him. It didn’t take Bifur long to realize why.

One evening, when Thorin was watching Fíli and Kíli gently teasing Bilbo, Bifur sat down next to him.

/You have been watching me,/ he signed.

/I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,/ Thorin replied, rubbing his neck.

/You’re not. It was yours once, the necklace, wasn’t it?/

Thorin shook his head. /Not mine. My mother’s, and my grandmother’s before that. It was always an engagement gift from the heir to the throne to his future wife. /

/I’m sorry./

/Don’t be. A fair price was paid for it./

That was a relief. Bifur hadn’t expected his mother to take advantage of the dwarves of Erebor like many men and even dwarves did when the exiles had to sell what possessions they had left in order to survive, but he hadn’t known just how much money she had had available when she bought the necklace. 

/May I take a look at it?/ Thorin asked. /It has been many years since I had the chance to./

/Of course./ Bifur unfastened the necklace and handed it to Thorin. 

Thorin ran his hands over it and examined it closely.

/It looks just like I remembered it. It has been in good hands./ He gave it back to Bifur.

/My mother gave it to me before she joined the war. It has been a lucky charm for my family. With varying results./ Bifur pulled a face.

Thorin laughed. /The luck of the dwarves./

/But we live./

/We live,/ Thorin agreed.

There was a burst of laughter from the other side of the camp fire, where Bilbo had somehow managed to wrestle Kíli to the ground. Bifur grinned as he watched Thorin’s face turn soft. 

/They’d be thrilled to have another uncle,/ Bifur signed when Thorin’s eyes were on his hands again.

/I don’t… I’m not…/ Thorin’s signs turned into helpless gesturing.

/You do, and you should,/ Bifur retorted, grinning so widely that it was almost painful. /You should talk to him, that usually helps. And you are lucky enough to have the words within grasp./

 

Bifur was tired. Bifur was sick of it. Bifur was not sure he would be able to stand watching another of these scenes. 

He had survived the battle without any major injuries, which could not be said of a certain king who had seemed intent on gathering as many injuries as possible but was still lucky enough to be lying in the bed next to Bifur’s, driving him up the wall. All because someone had decided that they would be good company for each other, the last two dwarves to be confined to their beds after the battle.

Despite lacking any major injuries, Bifur was still unable to get up for longer times. When one of the elven healers had checked Bifur’s minor wounds after the battle, he had inspected the axe in Bifur’s head, despite Bifur’s protests that it was an old wound. And then, the elven healer had claimed he could take it out, without killing Bifur, without deepening the wound and driving the axe in that breadth of a hair deeper that separated him from losing the last bits of language and all his independence. Bifur and his cousins had argued and fought more than they ever had before, but in the end, after thinking of how often he had barely escaped a blow on the forehead during the battle, Bifur had decided to let the elf do it.

He had had all the luck he needed and intended to live a quiet life from now on, one without dragons, orcs and battles. The only bit of good fortune he needed was for this to _stop_. Because if he had to watch Thorin and Bilbo skirt around the issue one more time, or listen to Thorin worry about when Bilbo would leave for the Shire yet again, Bifur was sure he would be the first dwarf to explode from frustration. And Bifur had an idea of where to get that last bit of good fortune.

“He won’t… run mountain,” Bifur said, cursing inwardly. The common language was starting to come back to him, which was more than they had dared to hope for, but it was doing so painfully slowly. Bifur could almost hear his mind creaking whenever he looked for the right words and always barely missed them, or twisted the sentences beyond recognition.

“He is not going to go home? Why would he want to stay?” Thorin asked and the stubborn sadness in his voice made Bifur want to shout at him. Except that shouting made his words go awry even worse, as Bifur had learned the hard way.

“Because he loves idiots. You. Loves you because you are an idiot. No… loves even idiot you. Loves you.”

“Why would he love me? Wouldn’t he have told me, or wouldn’t I have at least noticed?”

Bifur rolled his eyes so far back in his head that he briefly thought he would need the elven healer to return them to their right position. 

“Because you are good idiots together and never… words un-eat, not the real words. And you are as blind as my words are blind. You have to… words question.”

“I have to do what?”

Bifur groaned. It was difficult enough working through the sentences once, leave alone a second time. And he did not want to go back to using Iglishmêk, the healers had all advised him to use the common language whenever at all possible. 

He grasped the necklace that he had unfastened for this occasion a long time ago and threw it over at Thorin. It was rather less ceremonious than he had planned it to be, but as the necklace thumped onto Thorin, the word thudded back into Bifur’s mind.

“Ask. Ask like your Adad, ask like your Siginadad.”

“With the necklace?”

“Yes.” This was too complicated for the slippery words in Bifur’s mind. Bifur sighed, gave up his resolution and started signing.  
/It is yours. It would not feel right for me to keep it and I have already had all the luck I have needed. Now you need your luck, and you need your family’s engagement necklace. Think of it as an early wedding gift from me. Bilbo may not know much about jewels, but he knows about family and tradition. And if I have to watch the two of you dance around each other any longer, I will start screaming. Before you ask again: yes, he is dancing around just like you are, but if it goes on for too much longer, he just might start feeling like he ought to be polite and leave. So ask him, for Mahal’s sake.”

“Are you sure about the necklace? You have it from your mother…”

/Who had it from yours, under circumstances that shouldn’t have been. Yes, I am sure./

“Thank you, but I don’t think I can take it.”

/Why not?/ Bifur asked, already guessing the answer and feeling that scream rise to the surface.

“I don’t know what to say, how to ask him. And what if he says no?”

“If you won’t ask, I will ask. For you. With orc words all… goosing into the sky. Running into corners. I will make my words more blind than they are. He will hear… orc tidiness and have great fear. He _will_ run into his home.” Bifur gave Thorin his widest, most innocent grin.

Thorin laughed hard enough to start wincing.

“Please don’t,” Thorin begged.

“Then ask,” Bifur said, becoming serious again.

“I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m currently taking Christmas/Yuletide/winter requests/prompts over on Dreamwidth! If you’re interested, read more here: <https://octopus-fool.dreamwidth.org/2017/12/03/>


End file.
